


Bunnies of Hetalia

by Anon007



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: All characters may not show up in all chapters, Bunnies/Drabbles, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon007/pseuds/Anon007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the title says. Feel free to adopt any and please link me to the story! R&R and Enjoy. Repost from FFN. Rated E because I'm not sure how far I'll take these.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rites Of A Snake Part 1

** Rites Of A Snake Part 1 **

Matthew moaned in anguish as he and Gilbert made their way through a jungle denser than a black hole.

He was going to _kill_ the Ger- _Prussian_ for this. And then bring him back just so he could kill him again.

“Damn you, Gilbert. Damn You to Hell and Back.”

Said Prussian turned back to look at him. “What? How can you even _think_ of _damning_ my awesomeness to _anywhere_!? Then again, you would be blessing them.” 

His overly dramatic expression of shock then contemplation only added to the Canadian’s ire.

“Gilbert,” Matthew spoke, with the tone of someone trying to explain one-plus-one-equals-two to a three year old, “We are trekking through the forested equivalent to a desert. To look for relics that, for all we know, could have already been dug up and mounted in a museum how long ago. And we barely even have any training in archaeology!” 

Ok, so his comparisons could use some work but he was determined to get his point across.

“I’m tired and sweaty and goddamn it I Want To Go Home.”

Fullstop. Period. Point driven home.

However the hard-headed Prussian just laughed. 

“You crack me up, Birdie!”

Seeing his friend about to reach breaking point, Gilbert conceded.

“Ok. Ok. Half an hour more and we’ll leave. Promise.” The albino put his hands up in surrender.

“Fine.” Matthew spoke, sighing.

The two continued on their way, hacking bushes to the ground when needed and generally trying not to fall on their faces in what looked like mud (Matthew hoped it was).

After about fifteen minutes, Gilbert paused in his steps.

As he held out a hand for both silence and for Matthew to stop, the Canadian couldn’t help but worry.

Listening carefully, Matthew heard what made his friend stop.

Low grunts from behind the surrounding bushes. As if someone was trying to get out of something... or move something.

Motioning for Gilbert to quietly load up his shotgun, Matthew moved some of the foliage and peered behind them, trying to be as quiet as possible.

When he saw a shirtless, tanned, blond trying to pull himself out from what appeared to be the beginnings of some sort of contraption not unlike a giant finger-trap lodged in some bushes, what Gilbert dubbed his ‘Canadian’ instinct kicked in.

Noisily moving the foliage to make his presence known, Matthew expected the man to be relived and call for his assistance.

What he did not expect was for the blue-eyed blond to panic with slightly louder whines and grunts signalling a renewed effort in his bids to escape whatever held him down.

Starting slightly, Matthew tried to calm the blond as Gilbert made his way through the bushes to inspect the trap.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We’re trying to help you.” Matthew soothed. As they moved closer to the blond, the sudden change in his breathing rate made Matthew think he was beginning to hyperventilate.

Instinct took over and Matthew sat down in the mud, pulled the man onto his lap and began to comb pale fingers through the other blond’s hair, murmuring soothing words, despite not knowing if the man even spoke a lick of English (or French, actually).

He heard Gilbert give an impressed whistle after parting some bushes next to him, when the blond was starting to calm down.

“Gil?” the Canadian inquired, a bit fearfully.

“It’s a giant finger-trap...sort of. We’re going to have to cut him out.”

Matthew sighed in relief. At least nothing was chopped off (well he hoped nothing was).

As Matthew’s hands unconsciously moved from the man’s hair to his back, the blond in his lap started...purring?

Looking down in surprise, Matthew thought, ‘Well, at least he isn’t panicking anymore.’

“Ummm...Birdie? You’re gonna wanna see this.”

Gilbert’s tone (as well as his English – he hardly ever used American slang like that) made Matthew look back up.

“Gilbert?” Matthew responded, worried.

“Seriously, come here.” The Prussian’s voice held a bit of a squeak to it (Gilbert would later deny it for years to come).

When Matthew made his way through the undergrowth (not noticing the flash of worry that made its way across the other blond’s face), he felt his heart jump in shock.

Where the man’s legs should have been on the other side of the weird finger trap thing was instead a giant, black and sapphire-shaming blue snake tail. It occasionally twitched indicating either discomfort or nerves on the part of its owner.

“Oh My God.” He finally voiced, after what felt like hours of silence.

“You got that right, kid. Holy...” the albino seemed to be at a loss for words. “Well...pass me the knife.”

“Eh?!” Matthew exclaimed in alarm.

“To cut him out. Jeez, what? You think I’m going to kill him?... Assuming it is a he, of course.” Gilbert added after seeing the flash of guilt that had made his friend’s face. With the wording he used, he’d have probably thought the same thing, anyways.

Stifling a giggle at the last sentence, the Canadian did as he was told and went back over to soothe the agitated snake-man. 

\-----xx-----

Alfred gulped as the blond human made his (it was male, right?) way through the foliage to where his tail would undoubtedly be seen...again.

He knew he shouldn’t have slithered through that thing! But the trinket was so damn _shiny_!!

Now these humans would capture him, and put him in a cage and he would be miserable all his life!! (But the blond smelt so _good_. Surely he couldn’t be that mean?)

Nevertheless, he seriously regretted wandering off, now. 

As the humans’ whispering ceased and the foliage was noisily moved again. Alfred fought the whimper that made its way out of his throat.

The blond emerged from the bushes seconds later, brushing and pulling twigs and leaves from his clothes and hair.

He hoped the human wasn’t that mean.

\-----xx-----

As Matthew approached the obviously frightened snake-man (What were they called again? Naga? He still couldn’t really believe one was _here._ _In front of him._ ), he tried to calm his breathing. From what he knew about snakes (and most other animals really), when you were scared, angry or nervous they picked up on it and responded accordingly. It wouldn’t do to have the...creature?... kneel over with a heart attack or something. Or get mad either.

“Hey. It’s ok. I’m here to help.” Matthew whispered as he edged nearer to the Naga.

Hesitantly embracing the being, Matthew rested his (the snake’s) head against his chest and ran his fingers through the wheat-blond locks.

When he felt the creature stiffen (most likely from the cold metal of the scissors that touched his tail), he started rubbing his back. After awhile, the stiffness eased, suggesting the Naga was becoming more comfortable around him.

“Done!” Gilbert called from behind the bushes.

Matthew felt the Naga shift around a bit, as if testing that he was, indeed, free before pushing himself up so that he was level with the Canadian.

‘I’ll be so embarrassed if this snake turns out to be female.’ Matthew thought, eyeing the creature warily. He didn’t look like he was about to attack but Matthew couldn’t really be sure.

The snake fixed his bright blue eyes on him for a few moments before he... _rubbed_ against him? 

Matthew started a little as the Naga pressed his face under Matthew’s neck and, well, rubbed his body against his. Like a dog or cat might do to another, except, thanks to his scaly lower body, not as warm.

Was the snake purring?

But as fast as it started, it was finished and the human-reptile shot up onto a sturdy tree branch and, with a glance back to the two of them (Gilbert had seen _everything,_ Matthew realised) took off, shooting his body from one tree branch to another and was gone before any of them really realised it.

Matthew turned to see Gilbert examining two shiny, round pieces of what looked like metal on the ground.

Seeing his friend’s inquisitive look, the Prussian clarified.

“I think he tossed them to me before he took off.” All he saw was something shiny flying at him. He thanked God for his reflexes.

“Coins?” the Canadian enquired, seeing the identical markings on the objects. He was proven wrong however, as, when Gilbert turned the ‘coin’ on its side, the ridges showed they opened.

Inside were two small, golden rings of slightly different sizes. 

A distant roar, however, made the boys pause as they were going to try them on.

“Maybe we should go back.” Gilbert murmured, recapping the rings.

“Agreed.”

And the two swiftly retraced their steps.


	2. Rites Of a Snake Part 2

Disclaimer: Characters Not Mine, Plot only.

Oh, and Unbetaed. Enjoy.

**Rites Of A Snake - Pt.2**

The eerie hoot of a lone owl echoed across the night sky as clouds enveloped the glow of the moon.

In one of the buildings being used as a dorm room for the tourists, Violet eyes blinked open, accompanied by a yawn.

A tired Matthew Williams, aged-29-and-change, looked around the room in puzzlement. What woke him up?

His answer was swift in coming as a tiny pebble was thrown with near expert precision at the window next to him – the sound could easily be mistaken for a bug hitting the glass.

Curiously (and a bit apprehensively, as Gilbert was sound asleep in the bed next to his) peeking out the window, Matthew was met with the startling sight of the blond snake-man from the woods, half-in one of the many, carefully pruned bushes around the building. To make matters worse, it was close to one of the many street lights in the sort-of garden, making the black and blue tail partly visible in the bushes whenever it twisted.

Spotting him, the snake smiled, white (sharp) teeth shining slightly in the dark, and beckoned the blond down by giving an awkward wave.

Gaping and heart hammering, a now wide awake Matthew grabbed a long coat and hurried out to the garden as quietly as he could.

Unnoticed, red eyes snapped open as he shut the door.

-xx-

Alfred couldn't help but feel elated when he heard the telltale humming vibrations that passed through the air.

Naturally, none of the other snakes heard anything, so it was understandable if his older brother (and clan leader), Arthur, was a  _little_  bit angry at his brother's sudden lack of attention.

"Alfred!"

His brother's yell quickly remedied that though.

"What?!" Alfred yelled back, startled.

"Will you please pay attention? This is important. Do you want to help me run this clan effectively or not?!" he spoke, green eyes glimmering with frustration as his matching tail pushed himself up to his little brother's current height.

"Dude, 'course I do!"

"Then pay attention to what I'm saying! Keep in mind that neither of us have found mates which, as you know, makes our workload even bigger."

"Er..."

Alfred's hesitance and sudden twitchiness caught Arthur's attention immediately.

"Alfred?" Eyes widening, the English-born Naga placed a hand on the slightly bigger snake's shoulder. Had he...?

"Well..." the younger snake squirmed, blushing slightly.

"You have? Who? Alfred if you have found your mate, this is big news! Where are they? Why didn't you bring them home?" the older snake spoke quietly. He didn't want to excite the other serpents if he had misread the situation.

Alfred, slightly overwhelmed by the rapid-fire questions, only blushed harder.

"W..well...see...it's..." the younger snake then gulped and leaned close to his brother's ear.

Intrigued, Arthur humoured him.

"He's..." Alfred gulped. At least he was sure of the human's gender now. "...kind of...human." The last word was spoken so low, Arthur barely heard him.

When he registered what his brother had said, the shock was evident on his face. It was quickly followed by sorrow, however.

Seeing the expression on his brother's face, Alfred began to worry. "Arthur?"

His worry turned to shock as his brother enveloped him in a tight embrace.

"Iggy? What's wrong?"

"Alfred, I want you to take care of yourself, ok? Be good to your mate. And remember to visit your big brother when you can, hmm?"

"Dude, what do you mean visit?!" Alfred's yell caught the attention to some of the nearby serpents as he pulled away.

"Arthur? Is something the matter?" Lakshmi enquired, slithering closer. Her Indian accent was evident, as she was originally from one of the tribes that dwelled further south.

Arthur breathed in, and then out, before answering.

"Alfred...has found a mate." He said slowly. "A human."

The gasps of the assembled serpents (more or less the entire clan, now...gossip travelled fast) had Alfred renewing his attempts to glean information from his brother.

"Alfred," Arthur addressed him, thus silencing the younger part-reptile. "A human is a very fragile creature, as you well know. Resourceful, but fragile. All attempts to have one live among us has ended with those humans nearly dying. Or, in some tragic cases, actually deteriorating... _literally_."

There was a reason this topic was never really discussed when mating rituals were being taught to younger snakes. It was encouraged for discussion but most snakes found it too depressing. Arthur was one of them.

"It is for that reason that any Naga or Nagini who ends up mated to a human is strongly encouraged to go live with that human. Forever. In the past few centuries, though, that has become harder as few humans actually believe we exist. And our discovery could now prove dangerous to both them and us. So you will be required to hide yourself around most of them. Your mate should help you with that. His family will have to be informed if they are deemed trustworthy, though."

"So...I'm leaving?" Alfred choked out.

Arthur nodded.

"You'll get to visit. That is certain. Come now," Arthur spoke, turning. "Chin up. We had best prepare for your departure, as I doubt the poor lad has any idea exactly what he's gotten himself into."

-xx-

And that was exactly how Alfred found himself in the bushes, near Matthew's dorm, at around one in the morning.

But Matthew didn't know that, as he pelted full speed towards the bushes, trying to make as little noise as possible.

He was just wondering what the hell the snake-man was doing here. He was also trying not to panic thinking about what would happen if someone else saw him...actually both of them. He wasn't supposed to be out of the dorm room this late at night.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Matthew whispered, now starting to panic.

Apparently the snake-man didn't understand him because it responded by hugging him (again, he would be so embarrassed if this snake was female).

Deciding to get out of the 'danger zone' and  _then_  freak out, Matthew tugged on the Naga until he got the hint and slithered out of the bushes (and away from the light) and draped the coat over his (the snake's) midsection, double knotting the sleeves after a second thought. He'd have to find out his name as soon as he could.

Matthew turned to go back into the building, praying no one was awake.

Only to nearly get a heart attack as he saw a red-eyed albino standing silently behind him.

After recovering from his near death experience, Matthew whispered, annoyed. "What are  _you_ doing- never mind. Come on, help me take him up."

Gilbert, ever the eloquent one, yawned, stretched and generally took his sweet time before picking up the Naga by his lower half while Matthew hoisted him up under his arms. Making sure his tail was more or less in the coat turned sling, the two made their way back up the building and into their room.

-xx-

Alfred, while completely confused by his new position (literally), chose not to fuss. Matthew had to know what he was doing, right?

Mentally shrugging, Alfred settled for being carried in the rather uncomfortable position to what he assumed was his mate's nest.

Or temporary nest, anyways. Arthur had expressed concerns that his mate might not be from the surrounding area, hence why none of them had ever caught his scent before... it was also the reason why Alfred might not be able to visit as often as he would like.

After an...interesting...trip consisting of many frustrated words from his mate and his mate's friend and many bumps, some of which might probably bruise later, the trio had reached their destination more or less, safely.

As the two opened the door, Alfred was bombarded with his mate's scent (and his friend's, but that was easy to overlook. It was like the other was hardly here.)

Sighing in relief as he was placed on a soft, cloth covered surface, Alfred made himself comfortable and turned to face the panicking humans.

-xx -

"Gilbert, I swear, I will kill you. Painfully."

To his credit, the albino did not even flinch as those piercing violet eyes attempted to glare a hole through his skull.

"For what?" he instead asked, attempting an innocent air, before completely ruining it by saying: "I didn't tell your snakey friend to come here."

Matthew gritted his teeth and took several deep, calming breaths before he responded.

"You are the reason he met me in the first place. Of course it's your fault he's here."

The Prussian shrugged, absentmindedly spinning the golden ring around his ring finger – it was the only finger it would fit on...quite eerie actually. Even more so when it happened to both of them.

"So...what are we going to do with him?"

Matthew looked ready to pull his hair out at the albino's question.

"Why do I think he's going to fight any and all attempts to send him back?" he spoke.

The two turned to look at the snake, who was, by all appearances, trying to make himself comfortable in a nest of sorts made from the comforter and a pillow.

"Probably because he will. We wouldn't know exactly where to send him anyways." The albino responded.

"Actually I was-mph" Matthew was cut off by a pillow hitting him in the face.

"What the-?" the blond groaned, rubbing his face. Gilbert, meanwhile, had turned to look at the snake-man, who was giving Matthew a rather big pout.

When the snake-man saw Matthew looking at him, he gave a keening whine, shifting around and then patting the newly-made space next to him.

Gilbert stifled a snort when Matthew's cheeks turned bright red.

"Better get over there, lover boy. Wouldn't wanna keep him waiting." He remarked, gesturing towards the bed.

Matthew gritted his teeth as he passed the albino and, after a bit of hesitation, sat on the bed next to the half-reptile.

Matthew jumped a little as the Naga started that weird purring thing again.

It wasn't like a cat's purr, this was more of a deep sort of hum that Matthew felt quite certainly, would be sending light vibrations through the snake's entire frame. Like it came from somewhere in the reptile's belly rather than his throat.

The Canadian couldn't help but feel rather wary of the snake-man when he saw fit to press himself as close to Matthew as humanly possible without squishing him.

Gently picking up the hand that bore the ring, Alfred pressed his lips to the finger, half-on, half-off the ring and, ignoring Matthew's slight start, went back to nuzzling his mate.

Gilbert stopped his snickering when he saw the Naga press his lips to Matthew's ring finger. Chancing a worried glance at his own, he spoke up.

"Hey, Matt?"

His long-time friend looked over at his tone.

"Yeah?"

"Can you get that ring off your finger?"

Matthew frowned at the odd question.

"What do you mean? Of course I –" he cut himself off, shocked that the ring which he was trying to remove refused to even budge.

The Naga chose that moment to shove a dirt and grass stained note in front of his face.

Starting slightly, Matthew leaned back to read the note.

_If Alfred is showing this to you then you put on the ring he threw at you. I express my congratulations to you both, because, to be blunt, you are now mated to my younger brother._

_This bond is unbreakable, so don't even think about trying. If you hurt him, though I doubt you can, I will find you and rip you apart piece by bloody piece. So be a good brother-in-law, take care of him and teach him your ways (and English,_ _**please** _ _)._

_Wishing you both the best,_

_Arthur Kirkland_

Blinking in confusion and disbelief (he was what?!), Matthew grabbed the note from the N-  _no, Alfred's_ – hand and re-read it about six times before Gilbert snatched it out of his hands.

"Wa-  _Gilbert!_ "

Giving a low whistle as he finished reading, the albino turned to the Canadian and replied "Tough luck, birdie. Enjoy married life. And cuddle your husband for  _Gottes_  sake."

Still somewhat in shock, Matthew wrapped his arms around (a rather pleased) Alfred.

"Taken a look at your ring finger lately,  _dear_  Gilbert?"

The amused expression was promptly wiped from the Prussian's face.

"If I put on the ring and my...suitor...came to call, I assume yours is not far behind."

In response, the albino just scoffed, subconsciously twisting the ring. "Don't be ridiculous. If the Awesome Gilbert is ever to wed, it will obviously be to someone of his choosing. Not due to some creepy snake-magic."

As if he had understood the Prussian, Alfred (lightly) whacked him with his tail. Gilbert was promptly introduced to the hardwood floor.

Matthew smirked. "There's your answer."

Glibert just glared.

"And the best part is," Matthew continued, ignoring the other, "You've got the entire year after break to meet him."

Actually, as Matthew was opting out of the Archaeological program, he'd have to introduce Alfred to human society sooner rather than later (The threat from the letter was still fresh in his mind.). Not that he was going to point that out to Gilbert, of course.

Looking back on the moment, Matthew would later conclude that he was still, very much, in shock. No way he would have acted so calmly, otherwise.


	3. Rites Of A Snake Part 3

**Rites Of A Snake Pt. 3**

Matthew groaned, shifting in his very comfortable bed as an insistent hammering sound tried to drag him out of the blessing known as a good night's rest.

If that sound kept coming, however, blood would be spilt.

As if it read his thoughts, the pounding grew louder and a hissing sound started up next to his ear.

What really jolted him out of his (rather poor) attempt at going back to sleep was the smooth, cool  _thing_ that was wrapping itself around his torso.

With a gasp, Matthew's eyes snapped open to meet Alfred's.

Still hissing, the snake-man pointed to the door where the hammering was then joined by –

"For the love of all things good, GET UP!"

Holding in a shriek, Matthew answered a slightly panicked "We're up! We're up!" and tumbled out of bed after detangling himself from the sheets and Alfred's tail.

Pushing the Naga down onto the mattress and throwing the covers over him (it was a poor disguise but it wasn't as if he would actually be letting Elizaveta into the room), Matthew shoved Gilbert off the bed and onto the floor, ignoring the albino's yelp of pain, before rushing to the door, opening it as little as he could.

"Sorry! Sorry Ms. Héderváry! W-we slept in! It won't happen again, I p-promise!" the Canadian stammered apologetically to their dorm-prefect, hearing the bathroom door slam shut.

He felt a bit guilty since her job of making sure everyone in their group was where they were supposed to be on time (with the exception of the classes – that was up to them) was not exactly easy.

The Hungarian sighed as the Canadian continued with his apologetic rambling.

"It's ok, Matthew." She soothed, "With you, I can believe that. Now," here her eyes narrowed, "where's Gilbert?"

Feeling a pang of pity for his friend, Matthew answered "Up."

"He'd better be." The blonde replied. "Now breakfast starts in a half-hour. Think you can make it?" she asked, smiling. Matthew was always such a sweetheart so it was quite easy to be nice to him. Gilbert on the other hand...

Matthew smiled back "Sure."

"'Kay then. See you in the Cafeteria!"

Matthew nodded and shut the door as she left down the hallway.

Turning back into the room, he was greeted with Alfred peeking out from under the covers.

"She's gone. You can come out." He said. Then, remembering Alfred couldn't speak English, the Canadian made his way over to the bed and pulled the covers back.

In response, Alfred lay back on the lilac sheets and stretched, exposing his stomach as well as the dark crème underbelly of his more reptilian parts. Relaxing his muscles, he looked in Matthew's direction and hissed, displaying a small but lethal-looking set of teeth

"Ummm..." Matthew wasn't really sure what that meant. But he had the funniest feeling it  _wasn't_  that the Naga wished to go back to bed.

Pulling his lips back over his teeth, Alfred paused in thought before attempting to speak. What was that word again?

"Hhh...aa...sf...huu...fusshhhh...ulsssss" Damn, he really should have learned human speech when he had the chance. Using your lips to talk was hard! Giving up, Alfred settled for opening his mouth like he had seen those baby birds do when the big one came back with meat, ie, really wide.

"Food?" Matthew guessed, weirded out by Alfred's attempt at speech and the set of teeth that were now being put on full display. Were his canines getting longer?

Snapping his mouth closed at the familiar word, Alfred nodded. At least he thought that was the word.

Brows furrowing, Matthew asked "You can understand me?"

Alfred just tilted his head at the question, frowning.

"Nevermind." Matthew spoke with a sigh.

Alfred gave a low whimper. He didn't like making his mate so...disappointed!

The slam of the bathroom door drew their attention.

"Awesomness is finished. Your turn, Birdie." Gilbert said, before seeing the pout on the Naga's face, "'Sup with him?"

The albino was already dressed in dark blue jeans and a red shirt with "Awesome" scrawled over a very graphic explosion. This surprised Matthew as he hadn't even heard the shower start.

"I think he's hungry." Matthew replied, pulling the Naga into an awkward hug and stroking his back.

If the few supernatural romance novels he'd read were any indication (not that he actually had much stuff to go on, otherwise), the sudden urge to comfort the snake-man was them becoming more attuned to each other.

Matthew inwardly groaned. It was cliché but he had no better explanation.

"Ok then...Well, good luck feeding him. Last I checked snakes like their prey still breathing." The albino made no effort to hide his amusement.

Narrowing his eyes at his dorm mate, Matthew informed him that Alfred was only  _part_  snake.

"Either way," Gilbert's amusement was obviously increasing. "good luck getting food for him. Chef's got eyes better than a hawk."

Unfortunately, Matthew knew, Gilbert was in no way exaggerating. It was like the food had security tags, as the two found out firsthand when they'd started the program.

Matthew briefly toyed with returning Alfred to his...nest...when the contents of the other Naga's letter came back to him. Common Sense said that if Nagas were really as powerful as legend said, Matthew would be barbequed or worse the minute he tried.

He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for thinking it when he looked down into those big, baby-blue eyes. Alfred seemed quite...content...with how things were.

They'd deal with how to hide his lower half later. Matthew dearly wished he could pull that mermaid trick and turn the tail into a pair of legs.

-xx-

Ok, so it turns out he  _could_  turn the tail into legs. But, as Matthew and Gilbert found out, Alfred had no idea how to use them. The moment the blond had stood up from the bed, after a heavily blushing Matthew had tied a pillow case around the Naga's nude thighs (all the while trying to look at what he was doing as little as possible) and tested his new legs, he fell flat on his face.

"So much for passing him off as a foreigner." Gilbert piped up, as the Canadian worriedly looked over Alfred for any injuries after his fifth meeting with floor.

"He just needs practice." Matthew defended the snake.

Alfred just basked in Matthew's attention (he felt he could say his mate's name right but was too shy try it) completely ignoring the dull throbbing of bumps and small bruises from his many stumbles and falls. Except for wincing when Matthew accidentally poked them with a bit too much force, that is.

However when his lovely (and well meaning, Alfred was sure), but apparently crazy 2mate brought out some funky smelling, (and burning!) goo to rub on him, Alfred could not help but make a slight fuss (see: smash stuff).

It was a small miracle that no one heard them, Matthew later remarked, blushing even more, while pinning a still mostly nude Alfred down as Gilbert treated his scrapes and bumps. Someone (here, Gilbert gave a pointed look in Matthew's way) was going to have to pay for the broken lamp and phone, though.


	4. Home Sweet Home Chapter 1

** Home Sweet Home **

Part 1

Alfred couldn't help the shivers that passed through his frame as the howling winds grew steadily colder.

Choking back a sob, the now eighteen year old man tightened the straps of the stolen winter coat around himself, and continued down a sidewalk in the neighbourhood he once lived in.

Man. He didn't feel like a man. He felt like he was still sixteen right now. Younger even. For surely sixteen year olds at least knew their neighbourhoods like the backs of their hands? Knew what to do or who to call in case of an emergency?

Although, Alfred reminded himself, even if he did have any emergency numbers on hand, the likelihood of them offering any assistance (in the event he managed to call them) was slim to none.

None, if you consider the fact that his parents (who were highly influential in their own right) had probably already called everyone to lament how utterly _heartbroken_  and  _ashamed_ they were to have raised a...homosexual. Even in his mind, the exact words they had called him could not be formed.

Were they even his parents anymore? He supposed they were, since they hadn't legally disowned him. But he was an adult now. So throwing him out on the streets when he was too scared to even board a bus by himself was entirely within their rights, he supposed.

He wasn't exactly sure but, honestly, he was much more focused on finding the warmest, safest place possible to avoid the snowstorm that was coming sometime tonight.

Which wasn't exactly easy for someone who was as good as a shut-in.

Alfred barely knew his way around the block where he li- used to live. And now here he was, alone, in the middle of god-only-knows-where with a snowstorm on the horizon.

It had gotten even colder now. And windier. Alfred could feel ice cracking and melting every time his jeans moved.

And to make matters worse not one house he passed had left their garage door unlocked, or had a tree house he could at least hunker down in until morning. (Or even a trash bag he could salvage food boxes from – the idea disgusted him but he hadn't eaten all day. As long as there were no maggots or flies he'd have to stomach it for now.)

'It's hopeless.' Alfred thought, fighting back the urge to cry. 'I'll freeze out here.'

He didn't even know if they had any homeless shelters around.

Just as he had reached the end of the block, he spotted it.

A dog house. Hopefully an empty one. Most likely considering the upcoming storm.

Hesitantly approaching it, Alfred was glad to find that it was, indeed, empty. Save for a dog mat which he hurriedly pulled over his legs as he dashed inside, eager to thaw his legs a little.

It did him no good. The snowstorm came down not even an hour later. By the time his breath had gotten too cold to warm his fingers, blackness started to creep up on him.

Alfred blearily thought he heard barking before he passed out.

-xx-

"Kuma! What are you doing?! You can't go outside! There's a snowstorm!" Matthew tried to reason with his wolf-dog hybrid. Anyone who pointed out that dogs couldn't understand humans would be given the mother of all death glares by the Canadian (and now, American as well) EMT and politely told that Kumajirou could understand him just fine.

It was when the nail marks on the door started to turn into gouges that Matthew gathered his mountaineering harnesses and, after securing himself and Kuma, stepped out into the snow storm after his dog. Why did he feel like this was a bad idea.

When he discovered the almost frozen man in his dog's kennel, he swiftly recanted his earlier thought. Medical training kicking in, he hurried the young man and Kuma back into the house, praying he wasn't beyond saving.

Laying him onto the couch, Matthew stripped the man bare before drying him off and throwing a battery powered heating blanket over his torso. Turning the blanket on, he called for Kumajirou to bring the first aid kit. The dog swiftly obeyed.

Grabbing two spare towels, Matthew wrapped one around the other's head and placed the second gently around his neck.

When Kuma returned with kit, the Canadian grabbed the thermometer,

stuck it under the stranger's tongue and felt for his pulse. Relief seeped into his bones as he found it. A bit weaker than he would have liked, but it was there. His breathing was more noticeable than before too as Matthew took a closer look.

Most likely moderate hypothermia then, as severe hypothermia tended to imitate death quite well. Hopefully no immediate hospital visit would be needed as he doubted he would be able to get him to one right now, anyways.

The beeping of the thermometer drew his attention. 29° Celsius.

Shoving his hands under the blanket to warm them up faster, Matthew then proceeded to rub the man's exposed shoulders and legs being careful not to send too much heat to his extremities until the rest of him had warmed sufficiently.

When the stranger was breathing normally again, save for the slightly irregular pattern and occasional shudder in his breath (but that was to be expected), Matthew lowered the temperature on the blanket and put Kumajirou to keep an eye on him before going to make some soup on his portable stove.

The lack of Electricity was proving to be a hindrance rather than the escape he had envisioned. But luckily, nothing more than that.

-xx-

Alfred let out a groan as consciousness came slowly back. His head was pounding like someone had taken a hammer to it.

A delicious smell told his fuzzy mind that his mom must be cooking. Probably a stir-fry. Or soup. She was good at making soup. Oddly enough, though, he didn't feel hungry.

In an attempt to ease the insistent throb in his head, Alfred turned and snuggled into the oddly soft surface beneath him, relishing the extra warmth of his blankets and trying his best to fall back asleep before it hit him.

None of the furniture in his house was this soft, except perhaps the bed. But it couldn't be a bed, Alfred concluded, as he stretched his leg out a bit, only to have it fall off the end.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, the blond forced his eyes open.


	5. Mating Call Part 1

**Mating Call - Pt. 1**

Alfred sighed as he snuggled into the chilly body embracing him, snuggie wrapped around him to preserve some form of heat from the cold air in the boarded up supermarket.

Matthew gave a growling purr of approval at Alfred's action, leaned down and licked his mate's face.

Despite being dead, Matthew's body leeched no heat from Alfred's form. That had always been a source of curiosity for the American. But, then again, that virus was as strange as destructive.

For instance, instead of ripping him to itty bitty bloody pieces and then snacking on those pieces after Matthew had caught him unawares back at that gas station, he had...well...

'A man does have needs.' Alfred thought, sighing in contentment as Matthew gave a few of his odd purrs, causing Alfred's eyes to close. Everyone had needs...unless they were, like, Asexual to the point of no interest.

The American had been too far gone to actually question who (and what, for that matter) was claiming him at that moment.

Fate remedied that by giving him an eyeful (yes, of that too) the next morning. A banshee couldn't have reached those decibels if it struck a deal with  _God_.

Unfortunately for Alfred, his big mouth got him in trouble yet again as his scream had attracted the attention of a few (okay, a bit more than a few) zombies. Alfred felt like passing out when Matthew growled and, instead of trying to eat Alfred, they took off like death itself (actual  _death_  that is) was chasing them.

After about a week or so of falling asleep due to sheer exhaustion (with Matthew looking as worried as one of the living dead  _could_ , Alfred later realised) rather than any desire to actually sleep, Alfred ascertained that,  _No, Matthew was not going to eat him,_ and began letting his guard downlittle by little until it reached the point where the two could cuddle in peace, and sometimes do more than that, before sleeping (Alfred was still sceptical as to whether Matthew actually slept). It was also when he got the courage to finally tell Matthew to  _please put on some damn clothes!_

Turns out the zombie was very fluent at understanding English. And French (which furthered Alfred's suspicion of Matthew being at least  _part_  French) He had his doubts about Matt being a zombie, though. Well, at least he wasn't one of the ones that were eating everyone.

Ever since this whole fiasco began, Alfred had come across very few living, breathing humans. He still hasn't found his father, Arthur Kirkland. Or any of their friends, for that matter.

_'_ But _,'_ Alfred reminded himself, tightening his grip on Matthew's waist a bit,  _'_ that'spreferable right now _.'_

For most of his...journey?...since then, he had been keeping to the edges of cities. Which, while dangerous, was better than going into the forests by himself. He dearly hoped Arthur had managed to find a group and escape there. Alone, the trek was rather dangerous as, the edges were packed with zombies who, by now, had figured out that was where all the humans were headed.

Broken pieces of conversation via radio had told him that much. Something in there was either toxic to the zombies or they just didn't like it. Either way, it was safe enough to set up radio stations and settle down.

When everything started, Alfred wished to be able to make it there. Now, after meeting Matthew, well, if he couldn't go, Alfred wasn't sure he'd want to go now either.

A slight nip to his cheek told him Matthew wasn't very happy about him not sleeping.

"Alright, alright, I'm going to sleep now." Alfred grumbled, eyes still closed. "Big softie." And, after a few moments, he drifted off.

-xx-

Alfred awoke to a slightly painful/pleasurable sensation at the base of his neck. Like someone was...

Blue eyes opened to a blond head buried in his neck. Alfred sighed.

Chewing on it. Or more accurately giving him a hickey. Again.

Tilting his head back to give Matthew better access, Alfred winced as the action caused a slight burn.

'It's either a graze or a cut.' Alfred deduced, grasping Matthew's broad shoulders.

Matthew gave a whine and pulled back, examining the new wound on his mate's skin.

"Relax," Alfred murmured, patting the Canadian's head "You're not at fault for that."

Snorting, Matthew proceeded to lap at the spot of crimson amongst the hues of purple, black and blue.

After about half a minute, Alfred was sure no one would even know he had a cut there, however small it might have been.

When Matthew deemed his work complete, Alfred stretched, not unlike a cat might, and got up after his joints popped.

Yawning, he started his morning routine of brushing his teeth, showering (thank god the employee bathrooms came with a shower – although why that was, Alfred could not fathom) and then browsing the canned goods section for breakfast...and dessert as he hadn't had anything sweet in a while.

The fact that Matthew was keeping as close an eye on him as possible during all this was something he was slowly getting accustomed to.

He drew the line at using the bathroom from the first day, though. Although he was quite certain that if Matthew wanted to wash him, he was more than capable of doing it. Alfred had an inkling he wouldn't even  _want_  to say no if that ever happened.

Pushing his wire framed glasses up his nose, he debated what to have for breakfast.

Plucking a tin of easy-open SpaghettiO's, a brownie and a bottle of water off the shelf , he went back to their sleeping cot and started on breakfast after Matthew had given everything a thorough look-over incase any of it was contaminated. How he knew this, Alfred didn't know.

Maybe it smelled funny or something since he either sniffed it, tasted it or sometimes both.

Alfred had seen Matthew eat once – infected corpses. It wasn't pretty. Since then he stayed where the other told him to stay. Most of the time, anyways. Ok, a little less than most. But still a lot.

As Alfred was finishing his 'meal' a loud thump coming from the top floor made him pause.

Matthew had gone out to hunt.

Instinctively grabbing a gun from his duffel bag, he unlatched the safety lock and took aim at the barred door leading upstairs.

He was a bit surprised when the thing suddenly burst through the wall. That didn't stop him from firing though.

Two shots and it collapsed, all blood, bones and rotting flesh.

Alfred sighed. "Where there's one, there's more."

And, sure enough, moments later they staggered through. Flesh half ripped off what Alfred was sure were once beautiful people in their own right. If that wasn't enough, the rotting flesh smelled something awful. He didn't hesitate to empty the clip into them, majority of the bullets hitting their mark. As Alfred was about to reload, a hand suddenly snatched the gun from him.

The next thing Alfred knew he was smack against Matthew's chest and they were out the door.

Just as they arrived at the intersection, hair-raising shrieks rang out behind them. Craning his neck back, he caught a glimpse of some zombies crumbling to dust before Matthew forced Alfred's head back into his chest.

Like hell Matthew was even going to chance the American getting ripped to pieces.

Not to say the other couldn't defend himself – they hadn't spent the last six months just sitting around and making love. Although the latter did happen quite often after the first couple weeks of them meeting.

A few of Matthew's hunting sessions were utilized for more than just food. It happened that Alfred was now an excellent marksman. (Although making  _those_  encounters seem like chance to better Alfred's response to pressure wasn't easy, it was well worth it.)

Keeping his eyes, ears and nose out for trouble, Matthew continued walking with Alfred in his arms and the duffle bag across his shoulders until they arrived at a small convenience store.

After making sure the place was clear, everything Matthew deemed edible for Alfred (which wasn't much) was thrown into a small drawstring bag and the two headed off, with Matthew letting Alfred walk this time.

They finally settled in a small cave on the border of the desert, a stream of water the only thing separating the shelter from the seemingly endless abyss of sand.

"You alright, Matt?" Alfred asked, sitting down on an old trench coat, after they finished scoping the cave .

A grunt of affirmation was given in response. Matthew proceeding to lick Alfred's face and neck clean reinforced Alfred's interpretation. He liked to think he was getting better at reading the Canadian.

Matthew tried talking a few times but it was so gravelly that Alfred always offered him honey mixed in water after. Matthew silently promised to practice saying more than 'Alfred' every once in a while.

He had no idea why he liked licking Alfred (sometimes everywhere the blond would let him). But it was soothing, reassuring. And sometimes plain hot. The latter was usually when they ended up mating.

Like now.

"Mattieee..." the blond whined as his unofficial husband licked lower. And lower. The buttons on his shirt opened easily under Matthew's skilled fingers.

Soon Alfred's hands were buried in the trenchcoat as the Canadian's tongue got his mate well and prepped for what was to come.

Alfred's last coherent thought was that Matthew had gotten so damn good at this _._

-xx-

Awareness slowly came to Alfred as black turned to white.

Groaning, he rose his hand to block out the light shining through his eyelids. The sound of a switch clicking made him open them, blinking a few times to adjust to the change of colours.

Seeing that it was Matthew holding what looked like a battery-operated lamp, Alfred whined and tried to go back to sleep.

Matthew observed the blond for a moment before deciding it wasn't worth trying to wake him up now and snuggling back next to the American, who wasted no time in embracing the other and going back to sleep.

After a few moments, Matthew rested his head down and took a light snooze, keeping his ears and nose alert just in case.

-xx-

The quiet roar of an engine somewhere outside their cave made Matthew's eyes snap open.

His sudden movement as he got up jostled Alfred awake.

"Matt? What..?" the blond murmured, rubbing his eyes.

Matthew gave a low, soft growl. Where there were working mechanics there were almost always humans.

As far as Matthew was concerned, humans (and even others like him – if there were any) meant trouble.

At least there were no other animals. Matthew instinctively  _knew_   **all**  of them had fled prior to the spread of the epidemic that made the world this way. Zombie humans, he could deal with. Most of their minds were as good as gone.

Now normal humans...

Matthew sighed as he gestured for Alfred to stay hidden.

Normal humans were panicky, dangerous creatures who could put bullet holes in his mate without a second thought.

Keeping to the wall of the cave, he peeked out to see, sure enough, a barred up school bus parked outside a (now as-good-as-empty) gas station.

About six heavily armed humans disembarking did nothing to ease his anxiety. There looked to be a few young ones too, but they were left on the bus.

'As long as they stay away from here,' Matthew reminded himself, 'there's no need for trouble.'

Of course he'd have to wait to ascertain whether they meant either him or Alfred harm...or if they came to steal their food and water. Matthew didn't much need it but for Alfred, it was vital.

He had to stifle a growl when a few of the humans broke off from the pack and headed their way.

The small blond one wearing a green suit had spotted some of Alfred's clothes drying, half-hidden near the stream. He was accompanied by a tall, platinum blond who was wearing a long coat and a scarf despite the obvious heat, and another in a green jacket and brown pants with a white beret atop his head.

"Matt?"

Hearing his mate's voice, Matthew turned to see Alfred tying an old jacket around his waist.

"Who's out there?" the blue-eyed man inquired, picking up his glasses and slipping them on. "Is it people? Normal ones, that is."

Nodding after a moment's consideration, Matthew let his mate take a peek at the oncoming humans. They were rather noisy, honestly, how were these people expecting to say alive like that, much less hidden?

Whatever Matthew expected, it was not to see his mate lose his breath after seeing the intruders.

Quickly pulling his mate to his chest, Matthew gave a worried, low whine.

"No, no." Alfred quickly soothed. "It's not...I...think that's my dad. And our friends."

This quickly caught Matthew's attention.

"Don't worry. Even if it is, I'm staying with you." Alfred murmured, squashing Matthew's sudden worry of Alfred leaving him. "Now go hide."

Matthew complied, tucking himself behind an outcrop of rock; he was glad their bond was strengthening to such a rate. Whether or not Alfred knew it, he was becoming more sensitized to certain signals Matthew sent out. Both by body language and scent.

"- really don't see why we can't just split into three groups." Said an accented voice. It was British. But, to Alfred, it didn't sound quite right.

Matthew and Alfred both listened intently as the men came closer, Alfred hurriedly retrieving his pistol, just in case, and handing a hiding Matthew a sub-machine gun.

Just in case.

"Looks like these clothes have been recently washed." If by recently, they meant last night, then sure.

"Then it appears we are not alone, da?" This last voice was deep. Alfred caught a hint of a Russian accent. Ivan?

The sound of a gun cocking made Alfred tense up.

"I'll go check, shall I?" No doubt about it now. That was definitely his father. Alfred couldn't help but relax just a slight bit at that realization.

Matthew narrowed his eyes and prepped his gun. Just in case.

He didn't need to. No sooner than had Arthur come into Alfred's reach, the gun was knocked out his hands and the smaller blond was shoved face-first into the wall, a hand over his mouth to muffle any sounds.

The size difference made fighting damn near impossible for the Englishman.

"Dad?"

At Alfred's whisper, all of Arthur's struggling ceased.

"Arthur?!"

However his sudden disappearance evidently had not gone unnoticed.

The sound of running feet prompted Matthew to act. Within seconds, Alfred had been snatched and pulled behind the outcrop.

"Bloody hell!" the Englishman yelled, as he set eyes on the pallid and obviously dead creature that had just snatched his son and was now pointing a sub-machine gun at him. And snarling rather ferociously, at that.

As Ivan and the other blond appeared beside him, armed and ready to shoot, Matthew found himself shoved to the ground.

"Oh for god's sake, stay down!"

Matthew gritted his teeth. Guns or no guns, if Alfred was hurt, he would rip those bastards to  _pieces_.

Ignoring his father's "Put the guns  _down_! My son's there!", Alfred yelled "Dad!"

Arthur paused in trying to get the others to lower their weapons.

"Alfred!" the worry in his voice was palpable. "What the hell was that?! Get away from it!"

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. His dad hadn't changed one bit. "Calm down, old man!"

"Wa-?"

"Fredka?" Ivan interrupted. "You are not afraid of whatever just grabbed you?" The Russian had not seen it clearly, but he could venture a guess as to what it was. So these things could fire guns now? How troublesome.

"Ivan? No, dude, course I'm not! Kind of hard to be, actually. He's a big ol' softie." Tucking his hair behind his ear and ignoring the disbelieving looks of the three men, Alfred smiled sheepishly. "Can you put your guns down? You're making him edgy."

The two still with weapons glanced at each other before hesitantly complying. Though they were all still apparently on edge.

"Good. Now, first off, I'm not infected or being threatened, obviously – I know that's what you're thinking, and I want you to promise not to shoot him. Please?" Some well placed puppy dog eyes followed that statement.

"And why," the blond in the beret spoke up "would we promise that? For all we know it could go on a mad killing spree and eat us all – you included."

Despite himself, Alfred turned bright red. Trust his mind to bring  _that_  up now.

"Because he won't, geez. I've seen what he eats (unfortunately) and none of you are it. Oh and, dad?"

Said father quickly turned his gaze back to his son.

"Meet my husband, Matthew Williams." He said, rising, and gesturing for Matthew to get up slowly so as to not startle them. Alfred had the funniest feeling that, to Matthew, they were as good as wed. Not that he minded or anything.

Arthur blinked. And blinked again. He had that look of someone who had definitely heard quite clearly what was said but was having trouble processing it.

Surely he wasn't talking about –?

"Pardon me, little Alfred," said Ivan, ignoring Alfred's irritated twitch at the nickname, "I am not sure I understood you. Are you saying you are wed to the...being...standing beside you?"

When Alfred smiled and nodded enthusiastically, Arthur couldn't take it anymore. He fainted.

-xx-

"-gy? Iggyyyy? Still out cold."

Arthur groaned as the familiar voice woke him up. Couldn't he get a few minutes peaceful sleep, for God's sake?! He was even dreaming about relaxing by a nice stream...

A growl stopped him from drifting off, though.

"He's up now? Ok."

A splash of cold water in his face made him yelp.

"Who the hell-!" he sputtered, coughing.

Arthur opened his eyes, only to snap them shut again. Who the hell made the place so bright?

"Dude, you ok? You totally passed out on us."

When Arthur opened his eyes again, it was to his son's bright blue ones above.

"Al- Alfred?" he asked, staring at his baby boy's face in disbelief. Was this really-?

"'Course it's me, dude!" Arthur felt a weight lift off his chest. His son was here! With him and the others. Safe.

"You, like, totally fainted when I introduced you to Mattie! What, is he that good looking?" the last part was said with a wink to said...zombie.

There was no other word for it, Arthur concluded, suddenly remembering exactly why he passed out in the first place.

That... _creature_ Alfred claimed to be married to was a zombie! A flesh eater! What was it doing sitting so calmly in the back of the bus?!

"Dad? Dad! Dude calm down!" Alfred yelled, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"Calm down? Calm down?!" Arthur yelled trying to control his sudden anxiety. "How about you tell me what  _that_ is doing in the back of the bus?! Why isn't it at the very least tied up?!"

Alfred actually looked a bit offended. "Ok, first of all –  _His_ name is Matthew. And I've been snuggling up to him for the past...what was it Matt? Six months?...ok good, six months and I'm alive and well. I've never seen him eat living people. He's not going to eat us. Trust me." 'Please _._ '

After a few moment's consideration, Arthur sighed. Maybe they could take turns watching i- _him_.


	6. The Missing Piece Of The Puzzle Part 1

**The Missing Piece Of The Puzzle - Ch. 1**

Alfred Jones couldn't help but let out a groan as he re-read the letter his brother had sent. Personally, he had had enough of attending functions to better country relations, but, sadly, as a Lord of a rather powerful country, he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

'And to top it off it is in...Canada. 'He thought bitterly, after double-checking the name. Why they couldn't just come to America like all the other diplomats, Lords and Ladies was a mystery. The only place American Lords and Ladies had to go to was their Motherland, Great Britain, as did all other British Dominions.

And to make things worse Canada was made up of the English  _and_ the French. How the Sovereign State had managed to survive, let alone become a Western Powerhouse was still a mystery. Perhaps it had something to do with how much they kept to themselves, social-wise.

Placing the letter under a paperweight, he walked into the kitchen after hearing the teapot whistle. Although he was more of a coffee person, he couldn't deny a good cup of (flavoured) tea helped him sleep significantly better. Especially since his bed was so cold these days.

Pulling up his cuffs, he let out a sad sigh as his late wife came into his mind. She was someone that he could whole heartedly call his best friend. But that was all he could call her. Despite being wedded for seven years he could never bring himself to be intimate with her.

Sure, they were affectionate with each other. But that never went further than slightly heated kisses. He just couldn't do it. But she was understanding of his plight, said he would know when he was ready. So she waited.

Waited until the day a bullet went through her heart. The murderer had been caught but it did nothing to ease Alfred's sense of loss.

Keeping up his duties had been made that much harder after that, the emptiness of this gigantic mansion seeming to swallow him every time he acknowledged it. Even the numerous servants that were present during the day failed to make the place feel...inhabited for lack of a better word.

Remarrying was never even considered. He would not be able to bear taking another woman as his wife. And the odds of anyone being as tolerant as Madeline was intimacy-wise, was slim.

Feeling his thoughts going down an even more depressing lane, he cut them off, choosing to focus on the calming Lavender-Vanilla scent of the tea he was making.

Inhaling the soothing fumes from the teacup, he felt his tense muscles relax and his mind calm.

Savouring the comforting heat of the first sip sliding down his throat, he made his way to the armchair nearest to the partially-opened window, already feeling the slight draft of cool breeze caress his skin.

'Rest first.' He decided. Worry and Frustration could wait for tomorrow.

A week later saw Alfred hurriedly getting dressed as the servants rushed from place to place ensuring all was in order for their master's departure.

As he pulled a black, furred trench coat over his shirt and dress pants, a loud purring sound signalled the arrival of his carriage, as did the sound of the servants rushing to take Alfred's luggage out.

Hurriedly pulling on a pair of white gloves quickly followed by black, heeled winter boots, he strode out the door, grabbing his umbrella along the way. He had been warned that the weather in Canada would be rather cold and rainy this time of year.

As he approached the magic-driven carriage, he heard someone calling.

"Lord Jones."

Turning at the sound of his name he saw a rather tall, violet eyed blond walking up to him, a white envelope clutched in gloved hands.

"Lord Braginski." He greeted the Russian lord, nodding. "You require something of me?"

"Indeed. Your brother has informed me of your visit to Canada." Without waiting for Alfred's response, he then continued, "If it is not too much of a bother, would you mind giving this to one, Matthew Williams? You will meet him before the first day of your arrival is up. I would have sent it there by other means but I felt this would be less of a bother to him. "

He handed the envelope to Alfred who accepted it.

"No trouble at all, Lord Braginski. Though, if I may say so, you seem to know more about my trip than I do."

The Russian smiled.

"Da. And unless I am mistaken, you are running late, are you not?"

Alfred's eyes widened as he remembered that, yes, he was running quite late.

"Why, yes, I believe I am. I'll be seeing you, Lord Braginski. Take care."

With that Alfred climbed into the carriage and was off.

True to the warning, it was pouring rain and freezing by the time Alfred arrived at the hotel in Canada, about two hours later, where several members of staff in hooded coats were waiting under the portico to collect his luggage.

It was actually just late afternoon, but the dark clouds and cold winds would have one believe it was the dead of night.

As Alfred exited the carriage, his chauffeur holding his umbrella above his head, he couldn't help but pull his trench coat tighter even though almost everything he was wearing was spelled to repel the freezing temperatures.

Alfred dearly hoped the rain would let up soon as he would much like to explore a bit before night fell. He had been invited to attend some sort of game in which one of Canada's top diplomats was competing. Something called 'Hockey'.

Whatever it was, Alfred hoped it wouldn't be exceedingly boring.

With that thought in mind, he entered the building.


	7. The Missing Piece Of The Puzzle Part 2

**The Missing Piece Of The Puzzle Ch. 2**

Three Hours. It took three hours for the downpours to cease. By that time, night had just fallen and a high-ranked member of Canada's government was expected to arrive any moment to escort Alfred to the competition.

As if on cue, three soft knocks sounded sat his room door.

Setting his long since empty coffee cup on the coaster, Alfred stood and marched over to the door, opening it with one swift turn of the knob after making sure it was, indeed, the person assigned to escort him.

"Lord Jones." Greeted a hazel-eyed brunette, snapping into a salute. He decked out in red and black – Canada's Police uniform if Alfred wasn't mistaken.

Giving a polite nod in response, Alfred offered his hand to which warm lips were promptly pressed and just as promptly removed. A small part of tradition kept from before the overthrow of the royal families...with a few alterations of course.

Good to know that the Canadians had done their homework properly.

"And you are?" Alfred enquired

"Jacques Marome, sir." The officer responded.

Alfred nodded.

"Shall we?" he enquired, pulling on his gloves, having dressed earlier.

Taking his umbrella from the stand, the two left.

-xx-

"I trust your stay has been good so far, sir? No troubles at the hotel?"

Alfred looked up from where he had buried as much of his face as possible in the furred collar of his coat.

"My stay so far has been exceptional. The hotel staff makes some rather delectable coffee. No offense, but is it always this cold in the beginning of winter?"

The rainfall had ceased but the winds seemed to become even colder. In the short while it had taken Alfred to walk from the front steps to the carriage, what part of his face had been exposed was freezing, every inhale felt like fire was running up his nostrils.

Mr. Marome, in contrast, hadn't even looked fazed.

He was surprised when the man stifled a laugh.

"Apologies, but this has actually been a...warmer start to our winters than usual, Lord." The amusement in his voice was palpable.

Alfred stared. Only the etiquette lessons that had been practically  _hammered_  into his head, and then some, stopped him from outright gaping. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought Canadians had antifreeze in their blood.

"If it is any consolation, sir, the stadium is warmer than the temperature outside."

Alfred sighed. "I hope so."

He rubbed his lips together and winced as he felt the chapped lips grind against one another. Looking through his pockets, he quickly located his lip balm and applied it.

Satisfied that his lips no longer felt like desert soil, he returned to the shelter of his coat collar. Despite the carriage being moderately warm, it was comfortable.

-xx-

"Sir? We've arrived."

Marome's voice drew Alfred out of his comfort-induced haze.

Blinking drowsily, he pulled up his hood and exited the carriage, and the two hurried into the domed stadium, eager to escape harsh winds.

As they entered the stadium it got slightly warmer. That did not, however, stop Alfred from (almost reflexively) pulling his coat tighter around himself after reluctantly pulling down his hood. He always did that when the temperature was colder than what he was comfortable in despite it doing nothing for his body as everywhere covered felt nearly nothing of the cold.

Arthur told him it was what people used to do before magic had been discovered and harnessed. In plain terms he had been called an old timer by his older brother. In retaliation, Alfred had one of the maids hide all of his brother's Earl Grey tea for the duration of his stay. Alfred told him it had been 'disposed of'.

His left ear still throbbed when he thought about it.

"This way, sir. We have the best seats in the house."

He was led straight to seats next to a large glass box - right in front of the frozen field.

Alfred listened as Marome enthusiastically explained the basic rules of the game, what certain structures in the stadium were called (the frozen field was called an 'ice rink' and the large glass box, he learned, was for players put on penalty) and short biographies of team players on both sides .

When Alfred enquired whether Marome knew them personally, as the man had referred to them only by their first names, he was answered with a laugh and a "Do forgive me but I have been asked to not reveal which team our diplomat is on, sir. All in good fun."

All in all, the game didn't  _sound_  boring, Alfred mused. Then again, Polo hadn't sounded boring either.

The game started off fairly normal with both teams fighting to either keep or steal the small, black 'puck' to shoot into the net .

Alfred's eyes were drawn to a particular player whose Jersey bore the number '67' beneath what Alfred assumed to be a surname. He couldn't quite make it out with all the smooth and swift twists and turns the man was making.

It wasn't that he moved faster or more gracefully than the other players because Alfred honestly couldn't tell what would  _be_  more graceful here. All the players glided on the ice as if they had been born to do so and their speed changed as the occasion called for it.

No, it was just how... _aggressive_  he seemed. How he held himself. It was the stance of someone who wasn't going to leave without what they came for.

However, his attention was quickly diverted when the puck was stolen by a member of the opposing team.

The poor soul had barely passed in front of the young lord when suddenly a full body slam saw the player practically kissing the barrier, making Alfred jump slightly in his seat.

Harmless blue shock waves rippled out over the dome, originating from where player Number 56 (LeBlanc) made contact.

For almost three seconds, Blue eyes met violet, which were glistening with...malice almost as Alfred focused his gaze on the person who had body slammed LeBlanc into the dome.

Alfred felt a sudden heat seize his body, his heartbeat (and breathing) sped up and he could have sworn the icy cold of the stadium had suddenly turned sweltering.

As their gaze broke, the other player speeding off with the puck (it was Williams, Alfred found out after the game), the cold came back with a vengeance and had Alfred burying his face as far into his coat as it would go, taking deep, slow breaths, all the while completely neglecting his hood, which he would (even later) admit to himself, he had forgotten about.

He couldn't decide whether the rest of the game passed by too quickly or not quick enough.


	8. The Missing Piece Of The Puzzle Part 3

**The Missing Piece Of The Puzzle - Ch. 3**

"We will be meeting Mr. Williams shortly, Lord. May I get you anything? Something to drink or snack on until we arrive at the restaurant?" Marome asked as they exited the stadium. Knowing the American Lord had little fondness for the cold, he led him to the nearest Tim Hortons , which was predictably, packed. Luckily he had managed to reserve a semi-secluded table for the three of them and had had gotten a few RCMP members to hang around in casual clothing...just in case.

Alfred pondered this for a moment before responding. "A drink, thank you. Something a bit warm? With Milk. I don't much know what drinks are available. No tea, please."

"Then may I suggest the Mocha Latte? One of their best, sir."

"You may." Alfred responded, as they entered the establishment.

As the smell of fresh brewed coffee entered his nostrils, Alfred found himself anticipating the arrival of that Latte.

Shivering slightly due to the temperature change (the gel-like film at the door lessened the shock but he still felt a little of it), Alfred followed Marome to a table in the corner that had been roped off.

As they approached, two employees hurriedly removed the stanchions blocking the table before returning to serving the masses.

Alfred loosened the uppermost buttons on his trench coat and took a seat as Marome hurried off to get their drinks.

Sighing as he settled down on the cushioned seat, he removed his slightly smudged glasses and polished them with the end of his coat.

After replacing them on his face, he then proceed to engage in one of his favourite hobbies: People Watching.

The patrons of Tim Hortons were either mulling about, enjoying meals at their tables (in some cases, drinking coffee while standing) or waiting in line. All of them however, were avidly (and loudly) discussing the hockey game. One brunette woman in particular was gesturing rather wildly as she retold the highlights of the game to a red-haired man who had apparently managed to miss it, her voice being heard even above the chatter of everyone else in the place.

Marome came back about a minute later carrying two small cups bearing the Tim Hortons logo with 'Latte' on one of them.

"Here you are, sir. I do hope you enjoy it."

Alfred accepted his Latte with a polite 'Thank You', letting his gaze wander back to the patrons in the coffee shop while taking small mouthfuls. It was rather good, dare he say.

He never really went 'out and about' much back home so just sitting in an ordinary coffee shop filled with ordinary citizens, without a battalion of bodyguards was a new experience for him (well...guards in uniform, that is – He'd been told officers in plain clothes had been stationed in the near vicinity).

Even in his youth, if it wasn't some business function it was one wild, high-end party after another – never was he actually able to blend in. His title and reputation made sure of that.

"Mr. Marome?"

The RCMP Captain looked up. "Sir?"

"Who was the player that slammed...LeBlanc, right? - Number 56, into the barrier? Number 67, I think. I could not see his title all that well."

It had been bugging him ever since it happened. What the hell was wrong with him? He dearly hoped he hadn't caught fever! Or the flu! But he felt fine now...

"Oh, him? That was Mr. Williams, sir."

Alfred paused in shock.

"He was playing rather..tame, tonight. I assume he wanted to make a good impression."

"Oh." Alfred murmured, softly.

"Speaking of him, he should be about done by now. Unless the fans caught him again." Marome sighed. "I swear, they are almost as rabid as some of the team members."

Despite himself, Alfred couldn't help but feel rather...intimidated? But not quite? It was that same shiver up his spine whenever he remembered that glimmer in Williams' eyes.

Why the hell was this man making him so...nervous! Yes, that was it! (Well sort of.)

He took another mouthful of his Latte only to note it was almost done judging by how light the cup had gotten. The drink had also gotten a bit cooler, but not by much .

A long time ago, this would've caused Alfred to pout and then complain, but now he gave a soft sigh. He would have come back here, sometime. Their Latté, at least, was good. Maybe he'd get a bigger one.

Just as Alfred had taken the last sip of his drink, a hooded figure strode in.

Alfred didn't think too much of it, as it  _was_  winter, until the figure made his way to their table.

Catching a glimpse of violet eyes and pale skin, Alfred realized it was the player from before – Mr. Matthew Williams. The Canadian diplomat he was supposed to meet.

Suddenly remembering the letter Lord Braginski had given him, he stood up to greet him. But before he could introduce himself, Mr. Williams hushed him.

"Later. Where they can't hear us or we'll never leave." He whispered, making Marome jump.

"Oh, sir. I was wondering when you would arrive." The man whispered, gathering their empty cups to dispose of.

Mr. Williams' distressed groan seemed to be all the answer he needed. Stifiling his laughter, Marome threw the cups in the garbage as the men departed.

"Apologies for the informal...greeting, Lord Jones." The diplomat started after they had entered the carriage. "But, had my identity been revealed, the results would have been ...let's just say I doubt that you would like to be trapped under the stampede."

As he spoke, the hood was loosened and pulled down to reveal a head of platinum blond hair, pale sin and those shockingly violet eyes.

"It's fine...Mr. Williams." Alfred spoke softly, in a slight daze as he studied the other man's features. Had that been done to done to him by anyone else, Alfred knew all too well he would have gotten up and left without another glance.

But that damned weird feeling in his gut made him stay.

"Many Thanks for your understanding." A pale hand grasped one of his and guided it to a pair of full, pink lips.

As the warmth met his hand, Alfred dearly hoped his face did not show how rapidly his heart beat.

Perhaps he should have stayed in America.


	9. The Missing Piece of the Puzzle Part 4

**The Missing Piece of the Puzzle - Ch. 4**

Routine (and hygiene, come to think of it) were tossed out the window as Alfred resigned himself to just collapsing onto the bed in his hotel room.

'Ugh. Why me? Why?' Alfred thought despairingly trying to even out his breathing and calm his heavy heartbeat.

He'd be lying if he had said the dinner had not gone well, though. In fact, things had gone incredibly smoothly. Mr. Williams had been as charming and polite as could be things had gone off without a hitch. ("Please, call me Matthew." the man told him after the discussions were through. "It would be terribly rude of me to insist on formality all the time, seeing as you are as good as a tourist for the majority of your stay. And besides, I would very much like to get to know you.")

Yep. Totally without a hitch. Unless you count Alfred feeling lightheaded and slightly panicky practically the entire dinner.

'I mean, why do I even  _need_  to impress him?! Politics and personal feelings shouldn't mix.' Even though he knew they were as good as glued at the hips in some cases.

But for some reason that had become his main aim without him even realising it.

_Impress_  the Canadian Diplomat. By what means, he still didn't know.

Throughout the dinner he was constantly smoothing his hair when the diplomat wasn't looking, adjusting his jacket – even checking his teeth and breath after he had excused himself to the bathroom!

'How the hell is that supposed to impress him?' Alfred thought feeling a headache coming on. 'And why would I even need to, to begin with?'

"Ugh." And maybe he should shut his brain up and sleep...yes, sleep sounded good.

Not feeling the need to sleep in pyjamas tonight, Alfred stripped down to his boxers, plopped back down on the bed and was asleep in minutes.

-xx-

A cool wind was blowing as the sounds of owls, crickets and other nocturnal creatures filled the air.

Alfred inhaled the luscious, icy gales as they flew past, eyes closing in peaceful bliss.

The feeling of warm arms wrapping around him did not startle the American, rather he welcomed them, leaning back from the soothing gusts into the no-less soothing warmth the strong body behind him offered.

"Enjoying yourself?" a slightly husky voice asked, smooth lips pressing to Alfred's throat in a kiss leaving a pulsing, tingly sensation in their wake.

Alfred merely hummed an affirmative, tilting his neck back as the warm lips returned to stake their claim to the being clasped in the arms of their owner.

The cool wind drifting across his front started to warm as calloused palms and fingers teasingly stroked his waist, his hips and soon drifted to his inner thighs.

"Ahhhh," Alfred moaned, bucking, seeking more of that blistering heat. Violet eyes met bright blue as those wondrous lips claimed his, a whisper of his lover's name barely managing to escape.

"Matthew..."

Alfred gasped, as he shot up from the bed, phantom heat of pale pink lips, calloused hands still lingering.

It made him shiver.


	10. Open Road Chapter 1

**Open Road** ** Chapter 1 **

Alfred groaned, trying to resist the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel.

Repeatedly.

There he was, driving peacefully down the stretch of forest on a five day trip (sightseeing stops included, obviously) to get to his brother's house a state away when a pike- a goddamn pike!- stuck into the middle of the road razed straight through his tire!

He'd nearly skid off the road!

And to think, this was the only pure stretch of forest on the whole trip. (To the forest's credit, it was a long one.)

And, Alfred now realized, as he checked the trunk,his spare had gone missing.

Fantastic.

Being the considerate soul he was, Alfred took the liberty of hammering the wheel-shredding bit of metal as flat as he could, seeing as it refused to budge from its position on the road.

It also helped ease his frustration a bit.

Sighing, he went back into his car and wondered what to do next.

It wasn't like he had roadside assistance on hand. His car, while well taken care of, was old. A gift from his father when he'd gone off to college a couple of years ago.

'I should've bought the Chevy when I had the chance.' The blond thought mournfully.

And to make it worse, it was getting dark. No one he knew would be able to reach him, even if he could call them.

This was the last time he would let his younger cousins borrow his phone for anything - those little rascals had scratched his SIM card!

Apparently his share of good luck for the month had run out.

The steady roar of an engine from the way he had come made him look back.

A vehicle!

'Oh god, I hope they have a spare seat...or a cell phone.' The American thought, sticking his head out the car window.

Actually, considering where he was, asking for the cell phone would probably be the best bet.

'It's a motorbike.' Alfred thought as the red/black Harley (at least it looked like a Harley) sped around the corner.

Hurrying out of his car, he moved to flag the rider down.

It proved to be unnecessary as the person slowed down upon seeing Alfred's car.

"Car broke down?" A man's voice called from under a black helmet.

For some reason (that Alfred tried his best not to focus on) the man's voice and posture made him stand a bit straighter.

"Yeah. Cellphone's broken too - long story. Think you could give me a call?" The blond asked hopefully.

The man nodded, sliding his helmet off to revel platinum blond hair and eyes that, to be honest, were almost purple. Reaching into his pocket, the (rather attractive) biker pulled out an iPhone.

"Towing?"

"Yeah."

So Alfred had a bit of a...weak spot for bikers. Big deal. He had to remind himself that now was not the best time to be ogling his rescuer. Thankfully said rescuer didn't seem to notice.

Punching in a number, he spoke to someone on the other line then passed the phone to Alfred. "Owner's a friend."

Accepting it with a polite 'Thanks', Alfred quickly explained his situation to the (Russian?) man on the line.

"Where are you headed?" The stranger asked, leaning against his bike, after Alfred handed his phone back.

"Over to my brother's in Georgia. Thanks for the call. Name's Alfred, by the way." He said, holding out his hand, realizing too late he probably should have named somewhere in-state.

"Oh, sorry. Matthew." The other responded, taking his hand in a firm grip. "Georgia's a bit far to be driving by yourself."

"I stop out every now and then."

"Oh? There's a motel close by if you need a lift. Village's not for a while though - and the motel's closer to Ivan's garage. But if you want a proper bed I'd suggest going the extra way."

Well that set off alarm bells in Alfred's head. Sad to say those bells weren't exactly in agreement on the next course of action.

"Oh, um, thanks but I'd prefer to stay in my car." And avoid getting possibly kidnapped. Even if getting kidnapped by a sexy biker was sounding rather appealing to certain parts of his brain right now.

He really needed to find a boyfriend (and thus, more importantly, get laid).

Matthew looked taken aback for a moment before asking "You realize your car's leaking fuel, right?"

...Eh?!

A quick look under the car proved the biker right.

"For safety's sake, I'd stay away from that car until its fixed. Being in a vehicle with a leakage is dangerous. And Ivan won't have room in front."

"Er...point taken. Fine, I'll ride with you." He was still a bit uneasy about it though.

As if he realized this, the other blond chuckled.

"Relax. I don't bite. Unless you want me to." The last bit was accompanied by a smirk that had Alfred thinking that maybe his rescuer had noticed his ogling after all.

Alfred gulped, quite certain his cheeks were now a fantastic shade of red.

He could only give a nervous laugh in response.

-xx-

Alfred shifted uncomfortably, trying his best not to jostle the sleeping man beside him too badly (seeing as it was impossible not to touch him).

'I should've just said yes to the village.' he thought miserably.

The motel had (surprisingly) been completely booked by the time they'd gotten there, and, supposedly seeing how tired Alfred was, Matthew had suggested the blond spend the night at his house, warning that he only had one bed so Alfred would have to put up with a sleeping bag for the night.

After having nice, cool air practically serenading him to sleep on the way to the town, he would've been content to sleep on the mat at that point.

He almost had to after seeing the mess Matthew's dog, Kumajirou, had made of what was previously a red sleeping bag and a set of quilts that looked handmade (well what was left of them) .

And so here he was.

Alfred was jostled out of his reminiscing by Matthew shuffling around and wrapping Alfred in his arms.

After a minute or so, Alfred deduced that Matthew had pulled him into a sleep-cuddle. Because with the amount of nuzzling the other was doing, there was no way this could ever be a hug.

Matthew being in nothing but pair of boxer shorts and a thin vest wasn't exactly helping.

A part of his mind registered that Matthew would need a shave soon. The rest of his mind promptly duct taped the first part shut.

But damned if Alfred didn't feel the need to snuggle back. After a two minute debate, he decided he could always blame sleep and so buried himself in Matthew's arms, and (after being unable to resist squeezing some very nice muscles) fell asleep.


	11. Open Road Chapter 2

**Open Road Chapter 2**

The first sensations Alfred slowly became aware of were heat and cold. Almost constantly moving heat and cold. The irritating discomfort (because really, he would later realise, nothing else could describe it) began bothering him enough after awhile to try and force his eyes open just to make the damn thing stop.

Pulling back from the warm wall he was pressed against, Alfred blinked a few times to reorient his terrible vision.

The first thing he noticed through the semi-darkness was that that warm wall was actually someone’s back.

As he realized this, the person (Matthew, Alfred recalled) shifted forward causing the sorry scrap of blanket loosely held between Alfred’s legs (no wonder he was cold, Alfred thought irately) to become an even sorrier scrap of blanket, the remainder of which was now tightly gripped between his legs. Alfred filed Matthew’s blanket hogging tendencies away for later reference (why he was doing so was a mystery even to him).

Alfred groaned aloud and yawned, considering pulling the man onto his back and just nestling himself back into his arms.

‘But,’ Alfred reminded himself, rubbing at his tired eyes, ‘I don’t even know him. So that’s out of the equation.’

He was still cold, damn it. And it didn't exactly look like an easy task to get back his half of the blanket from underneath Matthew…well without waking him, anyways. Funny thing. He never picked him for a blanket hog.

And so the blond settled for huddling against Matthew’s back, picking off whatever warmth he could.

However, his shuffling caused Matthew to wake up.

The man groggily peeked behind him and, seeing Alfred huddled halfway down his back, turned around and threw the blanket over them both, covering Alfred completely when he pulled it up to his shoulder.

The soft ‘thump’ told a now snug and warm Alfred that Matthew had just thrown himself back onto his pillow.

Cautiously, he pushed himself up and pressed his face to the biker’s chest, relaxing when the man pushed the blanket below Alfred’s chin and wrapped an arm around his waist. It wasn't long before he fell asleep again.

Matthew stared down at slumbering man in his arms, feeling slightly worried.

He hadn't expected the man to come home with him that easily. The thought that Alfred could have been a thief or serial killer had crossed his mind but Matthew trusted that he was a fairly good judge of people (his training with the RCMP up in Canada might have helped bolster that confidence).

Alfred didn't feel like a criminal (and Ivan had confirmed via text that there were no suspicious items/stains in his car and he had no criminal record).

And the thought that this man probably hadn't even considered that he might be a serial killer/rapist etc. bothered him. Alfred had even agreed to sleep next to him the entire night.

Matthew settled down to sleep and resolved to have a talk with him once the sun was up properly.

—-

Alfred leaned back in the rocking chair, enjoying the cool breeze across his skin. He had just finished calling Arthur and letting him know what had happened and that he might be late. Although he’d had to gloss over some of the details, saying that he was staying with an old friend he knew from high school rather than saying he was staying with a complete stranger.

Matthew had given him quite the lecture about that over breakfast (the other blond had said it was just a talk but Alfred knew a lecture when he heard one).

Apparently in addition to possibly being a kidnapper, Matthew had patiently explained that he could’ve also been a serial killer, rapist and a number of, quite frankly, horrible things that hadn’t even crossed Alfred’s mind and had then proceeded to give Alfred the talk about not going home with strangers, even if they seemed perfectly respectable and offered their places repeatedly and insistently. Especially if they offered repeatedly and insistently.

‘……Well there’s a rather big Oops.’ Alfred thought sheepishly. Since Matthew was none of those, Alfred felt that at least someone up there was looking out for him. He just didn’t figure any of that could actually happen to him. Getting kidnapped or beaten up and robbed maybe, but tortured or even raped?

Upon realizing (aka being told repeatedly) that, yes, the latter set could have just as easily as the former set, after he had expressed those views to Matthew was…pretty scary.

Matthew had rounded off the whole lecture by making Alfred promise that he would never go home with a stranger again unless something equivalent to a zombie apocalypse happened. The man was such a Mother Hen.

‘…Good quality in a potential boyfriend, really.’ Alfred quickly cut that train of thought off. As Matthew had pointed out, Alfred didn’t even know him…and he had to remember to ask what had prompted Matthew to let him stay as close as he did. The man didn't know him either.

The roar of a motorcycle snapped Alfred out of his thoughts and he hurried down to where Matthew was pulling into his little paved strip of driveway. Alfred took a moment to admire his…form…on the vehicle before asking “So is my car fixed yet? And how did you know it’d be safe to let me stay with you?”

Matthew’s lips twitched, stepping of the motorcycle and putting his helmet back its compartment. As much as he was getting accustomed to the American’s forgetfulness and general inability to read the atmosphere in the half-day he had known him, it still made him pause sometimes.

And to think he prided himself on adapting quickly to people.

Matthew bit his lip in contemplation before saying, “I did a background check on you - yes, that’s legal. I’m a policeman.” Technically he was a liaison for the RCMP, but that wasn't important right now. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

After he had Alfred comfortably seated in his living room with a full, cool glass of water on the table, he interrupted the confused blond’s attempt to speak.

”Do you know anyone who would want to see you either grievously injured or dead?”

The question was so…well…blunt and unexpected that Alfred could only stare before he finally managed to stutter out an answer.

“Um…well, no. I mean…dude, I’m just an editor for a publishing company - who’d want to kill me?”

Seeing the blond start to panic prompted Matthew to hand him the water. “Breathe, and drink. Slowly.”

Shaking slightly, Alfred did as he was told, setting the half-empty glass on the table a few minutes later.

“Now, Ivan says you’re a very lucky man because nearly everything under that hood would’ve permanently injured you, perhaps even killed you the minute you went over 130. Your car was literally a deathtrap.”

The Canadian paused to make sure he still had the blond’s attention. Seeing the man biting his bottom lip, he resisted the urge to pull him into a hug. Instead he placed a hand on his shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze and said softly “ Luckily, it broke down and we had a chance to look at it. You’re here, Alfred. With me and safe. That’s what matters.”

Alfred sniffed. “So what do we do?” he asked, voice trembling.

Thank god for the sexy cop.

Releasing his abused and burning lip, Alfred responded apprehensively “But y-you said that…I didn't hurt anybody…well I don't think I did…are you sure?” And without waiting for an answer, choked out “Why?”

“I can’t answer that, Alfred. I’m sorry.”

Matthew’s next train of thought was a bit of a stretch but he didn't like seeing the blond man so worried. He wasn't even going to get a peek at the police report at this rate.

“Where did you stop out on your trip so far? Were you meant to be in the car in the first place?”

Alfred went to bite his lip again, but the sting made him reconsider. “Just some food places and my aunt’s. And…well I didn’t exactly plan to use the car, if that’s what you mean. My friend bailed on me so I had to take it back from my little brother, Allen.”

Allen had taken it pretty nicely considering he had asked to borrow for it a week in advance. Although, that may have just been because James, his brother’s hockey-loving, slightly-psycho friend-slash-crush had offered to take him to…wherever, instead.

He figured it was best to give the cop all the information now. Then a thought struck him.

“Can I see your badge?”

Since he'd gotten a lecture on being careful, he might as well put it into practice.

The violet-eyed man humph-ed. “I was wondering if you’d ever ask that.”

Retrieving his badge from a drawer next to the couch, he handed it to him along with a contact card.

“If you ever need to tell me anything or want me to look up any cop, gimme a call.”

Taking the badge and card with a thanks, Alfred slipped the latter into his pocket.

“I told the police about what I found, by the way. They’ll be here in about an hour.”

Alfred nodded, taking another drink from the glass, wincing slightly at the sharp burn as the cold water made contact with the raw skin.

“Alfred?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you hurt?”

Looking up at the worried policeman, Alfred shook his head. “Just bit my lip a little too much.”

In response, Matthew grabbed a bag from behind the couch and, after rummaging around for a bit, handed Alfred a tiny tub of Vaseline Lip Therapy.

“Keep it.” he said “I’ve got lots. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Feel free to just hang around.”

“Yeah, thanks…You wouldn't happen to have a thin blanket would you? I’d like a kip on the couch if that’s ok with you.”

He really didn't want to think about what Matthew had told him right now.

“Yeah, sure.” Matthew whispered.

Ten minutes later, Alfred was asleep, comfortably wrapped in a maple leaf spangled blanket. When Matthew peeked in on him, the Canadian-born policeman found himself having to resist the urge to place a kiss on Alfred’s forehead.


	12. Open Road Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
Alfred groaned, flopping back into one of the wicker chairs on Matthew's back porch. 

Idly observing Matthew’s massive dog sleeping comfortably under the oak tree, Alfred tried his best to get his mind off his…situation.

The cops had come by as Matthew said they would and proceeded to ask him everything short of where the kitchen sink was. Matthew said that they would probably contact Allen to do the same…now that was a somewhat amusing thought. Allen would probably freak out on them.

Fear weighed in his chest as his mind flashed back to why. He hoped this was all just a string of freaky coincidences, never-mind how things seemed.

His eyes strayed to a few yards over where a blond haired woman was busy building what looked like a small playhouse, hammering nails and drilling holes into boards. Fitting the door on and attaching window shutters. 

Probably for the kids…or the family pets. Alfred had definitely seen stranger. Lord knows Bruce’s koala was perfectly capable of picking locks, never mind opening doors. And Heracles’ cats were practically dimension hoppers. 

He wondered what Matthew would look like building something in the backyard - sweat running down his toned chest, muscles flexing and glistening as he moved around in the afternoon sun, wearing only a thin shirt and trouncers…or even better, shirtless.

Alfred unconsciously licked his lips at the mental image. Hot Damn.

“Thirsty?”

With a shriek that probably made the woman look over, Alfred toppled from the chair landing side-first on the porch with a thump.

Groaning, Alfred allowed Matthew to help him up, hoping to god he wasn’t blushing and trying to subtly grab and squeeze his bicep.

Well, apparently Mission Failed Spectacularly, as Matthew cocked an eyebrow at him, looking somewhat inquisitive and…amused?

“I know I flirted with you a little when I met you, but I must say, I did not realize you would be this bold.”

If Alfred wasn't blushing before, he was now.

“S-sorry, I didn't mean-”

Matthew cut him off. 

“Don’t. I honestly don’t mind. However, seeing as you've just had some rather distressing news, I’d rather wait until everything’s ok to take this further. Whatever that may come to mean.”

Though he was still embarrassed, Alfred couldn't help but give a small smile.  
—-

After roughly one-and-a-half more days, his car was finally fixed. Thankfully his Insurance covered most of the cost for the repairs or he might've passed out on the spot.

Despite the vehicle no longer being an accident waiting to happen, Matthew put his foot down when Alfred said he’d be leaving. 

“You’re a part of an attempted murder investigation. I might not be looking after your case, but my boss will still skin me if I let you leave.” 

Alfred had his doubts about that but he wasn't about to challenge him. From the stories (and occasional videos) that he had heard and seen, Ceychelle Bonnefoy packed quite a punch when she was irritated.

“I have to. Arthur’s going want to know why I suddenly decided not to visit.” Alfred informed him somewhat snippily, leaning against the wall.

He had decided against telling Arthur what was going on, not wanting to worry the Brit. Persuading Allen had been difficult, but he’d managed. There went his little stash of blackmail on James.

“I’ve already told you I’ll handle it. Now either you go pack your clothes in the closet or I will.”  
Alfred glared at Matthew with as much intensity as he could muster. 

 

Unfortunately for him the Canadian officer had stared down men much more intimidating than Alfred. The American’s eyes started to burn, but stubbornness reigned eternal and he refused to blink or look away. After awhile, his eyes started to feel like someone was pouring sand into them, making him have to force himself not to blink.

“Alfred. Stop it.”

And he blinked.

‘Damn it!’ Alfred thought, gritting his teeth. 

Blinking furiously to alleviate the burn, Alfred let Matthew push him onto one of the chairs in the living room.

“Your eyes are a bit red.” The Canadian informed him, odd violet eyes not looking strained in the least.

As his eyes regained their moisture, he blinked a bit too rapidly, causing a tear to slide down his cheek.

He quickly wiped it from his face, sullenly muttering “I’m not crying."

Snorting, Matthew ran his hands through his platinum blond locks, tying the strands into a wolf tail. “I never said you were - that’s what you get for keeping your eyes open for so long. Shield them from the light, it should help. Let me know if you need eye drops.”

The last part was said with a smirk as the Canadian headed into the kitchen to get an early start on dinner. Pausing, he turned back to the other blond.

“Before I forget, I’m going back to work tomorrow - officially, that is. Your boss said she would email scans of your work to you?” 

At Alfred’s nod, he continued. “Feel free to use my laptop, if this isn't over by then.” 

Proceeding into he kitchen, he finished off with “An officer will be nearby keeping an eye on the place to make sure no one unwanted shows up. If you’d prefer to have me stay with you, I’ll see if I can get desk duty. Let me know whenever.”

Alfred sighed. “Sure.” He called after the Canadian. Why was he getting the feeling this wasn't the normal procedure for victims of attempted murder?

**Author's Note:**

> These are all reposts from FFN.


End file.
